Aboard the Cruise Ship
by eatingmania
Summary: Arthur and Eames have a job on a cruise ship and have to pose as lovers, and the reason it has to be them is because Cobb doesn't want to take a week away from his kids or Ariadne has finals or Yusuf has a fear of water or some else. FORMAT FIXED.


_**Arthur and Eames have a job on a cruise ship. The catch: they have to pose as lovers, and the reason it has to be them is because Cobb doesn't want to take a week away from his kids or Ariadne has finals or Yusuf has a fear of water or some other ridiculous things. In fact, the more ridiculous the reason it has to be them, the better. **_

Arthur was standing on the pier with two suitcases—one for him and smaller silver one—waiting for Eames. It was 7:25 in the morning and in about 5 minutes would board the cruise S.S. Sydney for a three day job. Their goal was to find out more information about a wealthy man of 28 named Ben Robbins, who was the heir to Cadbury's chocolate. Ben Robbins was on a romantic getaway with his fiancé aboard the S.S. Sydney, on a cruise for "couples and those searching for their other half". Arthur sighed and looked at his watch and when he looked up again, there stood Eames, all smiling in a white tailored shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.  
"You're late," stated Arthur, as he turned and started walking towards the cruise ship.

"Don't fret Arthur, I'll make it up to you!" Eames shouted before hurrying after Arthur. "I'll also make it worth your time," he whispered into Arthur's ear as they got their passports checked. Arthur turned to glare at him before walking off to the reception desk for his (their) key. Once he had it, he dropped off their luggage with the bellboy. Arthur stood tapping his fingers against the marble table, waiting, when Eames walked over. He leaned an elbow on Arthur's shoulder and smiled at the receptionist, who blushed.

"Your room is on the third floor to the left, room 3490. I hope you enjoy your stay on board the S.S. Sydney," said the receptionist nicely. Eames gave her his seductive smile again, before turning round and heading towards the lift; Arthur rolled his eyes before joining Eames pressing and the close button as soon as he stepped into the lift.

"Aren't you supposed to be dating me and not flirting with the staff?" Arthur questioned.

"I didn't know you cared so much, Arthur!" Eames exclaimed, giving Arthur a peck on the cheek playfully. Arthur pulled away in mock disgust, but was still smiling, as the lift door opened. People were gawking at them in disbelief; so much for "we accept couples of all race, gender and sexual orientation". They walked out of the lift and into their room. Without warning, Eames jumped on the bed and bounced on it, before leaving the bed to explore their room. It was of decent size and had a view of the ocean (no duh), as well as a red velvet sofa and a full-length closet with mirrors as doors. Arthur leaned on the frame on the door waiting for: a) their luggage and b) to make sure that Ben Robbins is living right next to them.

Arthur was peering down the hall when he heard a large crash coming from the inside of the room. Eames had spilled the 'welcome basket' of goods all over on the wooden floor. Eames grinned sheepishly at Arthur, who only ignored him and wondered again why it was only the two of them on this job. Oh yes, it was because everyone else "could not make it"; big fat liars.

Ariadne apparently had her finals and has to study for them—four months in advance (so much for being the top of her year). Additionally, she got "very home sick" on boats—which was such a blatant lie. If you can survive in a surreal dreamscape, you can survive at sea for three days. Yusuf on the other hand said that he was aquaphobia. He would, apparently, get migraines and anxiety attacks if exposed to large bodies of water. Since Yusuf had driven a van off a bridge into the river, clearly his aquaphobia only occurs in reality. Cobb was the only one who actually had an almost perfectly legitimate reason for not coming: his kids. He had decided to spend more time with James and Phillipa, it had planned trips to Disneyland and other theme park in the space of those three days.

Arthur tipped the bellboy who dropped off their suitcases, as well as Robbins' suitcase, before going inside to take a closer look at Robbins' personal life. He would have to be quick—he also had to prepare for the masquerade ball tonight, which was the perfect chance to observe the mark. Chances were, he would lower his guard because he would assume he was hidden behind his mask. It was Arthur's job on this trip to get as much information about Robbins as possible, and Eames' job to learn to forge the fiancé; she was going to be the bait in the extraction.

-

It was six thirty in the evening and Arthur was all dolled up for the masquerade ball. He was standing in front of the full-length mirror, making sure his suit was impeccable. The cuff links were polished, the bow tie was not crooked and most important of all: there were no creases in his shirt. There were fifteen minutes to go and Eames had just begun buttoning his shirt up. His tie hung around his neck, untied, and his pants were not even on. Arthur gave up caring (and looking), and turned towards the laptop, which was streaming a secret camera in their mark's room. Robbins and his fiancé were ready to leave, and since Arthur was ready, he decided to follow them.

"Eames, since you are taking too long to changing, I'm going first. Robbins is headed out," said Arthur, who put his mask on and walked towards the door.

"Gotta look good for you, love!" Eames replied without looking at Arthur. Arthur rolled his eyes and headed out the door.

Arthur paced himself so that he was just a corner behind each hallway that Robbins walked down. He rushed into the lift, as it was closing, for a chance to bump into Robbins and put a listening device onto Robbins' jacket. When the lift stopped at the ballroom, Arthur eased his way out and to the bar. It was located at the center of the ballroom, so that Arthur could keep an eye on the mark the whole time. While observing and keeping a mental note of those the mark was socializing with, Arthur kept an eye on the door for Eames. After all, this was a team job.

After several people attempted to buy Arthur a drink, a man with a silver and black mask took a seat right next to him and whispered in his ear:  
"Did you know Robbins doesn't always take meds for his ADD?"

Arthur immediately gave a quick glance to the side to find Eames' face inches from his.  
"I read his profile, which I wrote. Of course I know," said Arthur carelessly, now looking towards the dance floor where couples were waltzing to the never-ending orchestral music.  
"How did you know I was me?" Arthur asked all of a suddenly.

"Well, let's see. There is a guy in masquerade ball, wearing an Armani three-piece suit, perfectly polished shoes and slicked back hair. Oh, and he has a mask on that only covers his eyes. Anyone who knows you could have figured it was you," explained Eames who was grinning widely.

Arthur acknowledged this with a nod before Eames added, "You look quite dashing too."

Arthur felt his cheeks burn slightly before turning around to thank him, and smiling.

"You don't look half bad yourself." Arthur said, then returned his gaze on the dance floor.

They stayed like that for a while, until Eames turned around to grab two drinks. He handed one to Arthur before announcing that they should dance.

"We're on a job, not a date," replied Arthur and took a sip of his drink.

"So you would agree to dance with me if this was a date, not a job?" Eames asked with a smirk.

Arthur took a large gulp of his drink and swallowed it audibly, before putting the glass on the bar and turning to face Eames.

"Let's waltz," said Arthur simply and proceeded grab Eames by the hand and pulled him into the crowd on the dance floor. Eames let out a hefty laugh, manoeuvring his arm around Arthur's waist and pulling him closer. The cheerful atmosphere soon changed when the string quartet went into their solo. Arthur had an urge to lean his head on Eames' shoulder as the melody became more intimate; it seemed like the music was centered around their dance. His own hand, which rested on Eames' shoulder, began slowly soothing its way across his clavicle, before resting at the base of Eames' skull. A warm heat started to form in the pit of Eames' stomach, and it was slowly spreading up his spine. He licked his lips. Arthur closed his eyes for a moment and felt the prickle of Eames' hair under his fingertips. When he opened his eyes, Eames was standing closer than ever and they were no long waltzing, but were almost at a standstill.

Arthur leaned in to capture Eames' lips, but they had barely touched when Eames' eyes flickered away. Robbins's fiancé, Patricia was heading towards the exit in a hurry and it was their job (or rather Eames' job) to follow her. Eames gave Arthur a quick once over, before easing away, his movements quick. As he left he said,

"I'll meet you back at the room."

Arthur just stood there in a state of trance, wondering when and where his lust for Eames had appeared. Standing there alone on the dance floor almost felt like being ditched at prom (not that it has happened but he felt an odd sense of being left by himself). It was silly, how could he feel empty when they weren't even together? Arthur decided he needed another drink.

Back in the room, Arthur sat on the end of the bed with his feet firmly on the ground. He did not know when Eames would come back and therefore did not know what he ought to be doing. He smiled at his own reflection in the mirror, still giddy from before. And then it hit Arthur, did Eames meant what he said?  
Eames was a person that fooled around a lot, could it simply be flirting? They were only pretending to be a couple, thought Arthur, so Eames could have meant it in a literal sense, like "I will meet you back in the room after I go stalk the mark's fiancé". Arthur looked up at the ceiling and back down before taking his mask off and falling onto his back with his eyes closed. He yawned, turned onto his stomach, and lay there with his arms and legs sprawled across the entire bed; he needed to stop analysing every detail of his life.

Eames came back to the room an hour or so later, turning the key slowly, trying not to wake up his princess. Okay, Arthur was no princess, he was more like a snarky prince than anything, but that was beside the point. He took his shoes (and mask) off before entering the room and crept towards their bedroom. It was empty. Eames was about to panic because Arthur was not there but it was not until he heard the sound of the shower being turned on and sighed in relief to himself. He thought he might have scared Arthur off with what he had said on the dance floor.

He loosened his tie and shook his jacket onto the chair before also sitting down at the end of the bed and rubbing his forehead. In a fantastic turn of events, the Patricia on the cruise was not Ben Robbins's Fiancé Patricia. Instead it was her twin sister who was trying to seduce the secret ingredient of Cadbury's chocolate out of him. That was exact mission of their extraction. Eames did not want to think about what happened to the other twin right now, especially as he heard the bathroom door open.

Arthur was drying his hair with a white fluffy towel as well as a towel round his waist, as he walked absent-mindedly towards the bed (Eames). It was not until Eames' feet were in his peripheral vision did he realize someone was sitting in front of him.

"You're back," stated Arthur, slowly lifting his head up to see Eames. He stopped drying his hair and bunched up the towel in his hands, not knowing what to do.

"Yeah, it turns out Patricia has a twin and is on the cruise—without her dear sister," said Eames who gazed up at Arthur's face before glancing at his bare torso.

"Hmm, that's new," commented Arthur. He could not think of what to say and instead turned to head back into the bathroom to put his towel down when he heard Eames spoke.

"Look." Eames stood up and was now level with Arthur. "Just come here."

Arthur bit his bottom lip. Eames took the chance of Arthur not backing away to gently cup his jaw and leaned in for kiss. Arthur was expecting it—expecting it and longing for it since he saw Eames walking onto the dance floor. He wanted those lips to trail across his skin, to run his own fingertips gently over them and kiss them with his own. Arthur took his time to let his hands to manoeuvre across Eames' shoulders and back, kissing his cheek and jaw and feeling the stubble scrape against his lips. He no longer felt the need to sleep and could feel heat rising to his cheeks, when Eames pulled back, resting his hands on Arthur with locked elbows.

"What are we doing?" Eames panted. "I mean is this what you want?"

"Shut up," Arthur commanded before going back to give Eames a quick peck on the lips. He dropped the towel that was barely hanging on his hips. Eames raised his eyebrow, pulling Arthur by the arm for another kiss.

The back of Eames' knee hit the edge of the bed and immediately he scooted himself on to the bed. Arthur crawled on top of him on all fours and started to unbutton Eames' shirt. As he continued, he unbuckled Eames' belt as well. Arthur drove his hips down onto Eames' growing erection, and he could feel the rough fabric rubbing against his own and hear a moan coming from Eames. Arthur smiled to himself before fully removing their remaining pieces of clothing. Eames reached down and tried to tug their cocks together but had his hands slapped away by Arthur as Arthur lowered himself down until he could give Eames' cock a suggestive lick. He did not give him a chance to respond before taking the head into his mouth. Eames responded, quickly spreading his legs wider to accommodate Arthur between them. He gently pushed his fingers through Arthur's hair; it was still damp but that did not stop him from tugging it forcefully to pull Arthur's face deeper into his crotch. Arthur was happy to oblige, even as he gagged slightly. His lower jaw was starting to ache but that only encouraged him to suck harder and finish Eames off.

Eames was heaving hard and gripped Arthur's hair harder, he pulled Arthur up for a kiss and slid his tongue past his lips roughly, all the while cupping his ass. It was Arthur's turn to groan as Eames parted his cheeks and traced a finger around his hole.

"You like that, don't you?" Eames grinned. Arthur answered by pushing his hips backwards towards Eames' fingers. Arthur leaned in for another kiss as Eames slid himself from under Arthur. He moved behind Arthur and pushed him gently onto the bed.

"Come on love, get on your hands and knees for me," panted Eames. He did not wait for Arthur to finish moving before spreading his cheeks and giving his hole a deep lick. Despite Arthur's whimpering, Eames continued what he was doing, circling with his tongue, planting kisses here and there with the occasional bites.

"Eames, please stop teasing," muttered Arthur whose face was plastered to the comforter. Acknowledging Arthur's needs, Eames bit his cheeks and went to get some lube from his suitcase.

When he got back, Arthur was already stroking himself. Eames stood there for a fraction of a second to admire the view before getting onto the bed and returning to his job. Arthur gasped as a slick, cold finger brushed past his hole and pushed in, a second one soon followed. They moved in and out, touching that sweet spot every so often. All Arthur could do was brace himself with both hands on the bed and try not to come right then and there.

Eames took the sign of Arthur fisting the sheets to start pushing his cock in. Arthur's eyes blew wide open when he could feel the head—the only thing he could think of was the pleasure when it was fully buried in him.

"God Eames, just-"

Eames grunted and thrust his hips hard towards Arthur, gripping his hips tightly for support. He could feel the tight ring of muscles clenching around his cock as he pushed in deeper, and heard the sound of the bedsheets ruffling along with the elicit sounds that were pouring out of Arthur's mouth. It was obscene. He would have it no other way.

Eames gripped the base of Arthur's cock and fisted it roughly to the pace of his thrusts but it was too messy and uncoordinated and he released with a low growl. Arthur thrust back for more friction before coming all over Eames' fist and the bed.

The only sound either of them heard was their heavy breathing, Arthur laid his head against one shoulder and Eames rested his head on Arthur's lower back. They stayed there for a while until Arthur collapsed onto his stomach and Eames rolled off to the side.

"Hey Arthur," heaved Eames.

"Yeah," muttered Arthur turning his face towards Eames.

"Will you go out to dinner with me tomorrow?"

"Aren't I doing that already?"

"I mean as a date."

"We're supposed to be dat-. Wait. Do you mean date date?"

"I mean date date."

Arthur paused.

"It's not because we had sex and you feel guilty, right?"

"No."

"Good. Because I would like that," said Arthur sleepily and smiled.

"Good. Me too," murmured Eames with a sheepish grin.

"Wake up, Eames," said Arthur who stood in front of the full-length mirror in board shorts and a t-shirt.

Eames grunted, scrunched his eyes and kicked the comforter off the bed. He needed his beauty sleep.

"It's eight in the morning Eames, get up," repeated Arthur who was now combing his hair neatly backwards.

It's eight in the fucking morning, who the hell wakes up that early on a cruise ship? Eames sighed and his eyes fluttered open, clearly Arthur did not understand the importance of sleep. He heaved himself out of bed and metaphorically crawled into the bathroom; he needed coffee. When he came back out, Arthur was bending over his suitcase looking for something. Being Eames, Eames walked over to slap his ass. Arthur made a mental note to not kill Eames. Instead he turned around and said quietly,

"You do that once more, the date is off."

"Playing hard to get are we?" Eames' arms were now crossed.

"You better be on your best behaviour, we're technically still not dating."

"Oh I'll be good," said Eames as he took a step closer. "And you better keep your hands to yourself."

Arthur looked down quickly and back up at Eames' face. He was still naked from last night. Arthur held his breath for a second before remembering how to breathe.

"Just … put some pants on, Robbins is heading down to the pool," stuttered Arthur before slipping away with a bottle of sunscreen in his hand. Eames mentally made a score in his head: Eames 1, Arthur 0. He should have brought his speedos.

At the pool Arthur was lying down on the bench "reading a book" while following Robbins out of the corner of his eye. Robbins himself was swimming laps in the Olympic size pool with three other people. Arthur observed that he seemed a lot more relaxed while swimming than he had been before, there had been no more of those involuntary twitches or consciously looking over his shoulder. Ariadne will have fun designing a water themed dreamscape, he thought.

"Here comes the evil twin fiancé," announced Eames before lowering his sunglasses. She walked towards the side of the pool clad in an all black bikini that looked like a second skin, just barely supporting her curves.

"She looks hot," said Eames, his eyes never leaving her body.

"Ahem," coughed Arthur, even though he was not jealous at all.

"I'll have fun imitating her," said Eames louder. People who were sun tanning around them all gave him a weird look, and Arthur chuckled to himself. He could not blame them.

It was seven thirty at night when they got ready for their date. It was weird preparing for a date when both parties were in the same room. Neither of them could help glancing over their shoulders to see what the other one was doing.

"I booked a reservation for eight, we better get going," said Arthur gently; he felt he needed to be extra nice tonight for some odd reason.

"Sure, sure. Just let me grab my jacket," replied Eames. It had already begun to feel awkward. They walked down the hallway in relative silence, no bickering or shouting or any sound except for their carefully tailored leather shoes scraping against the carpet floor.

"Well this is awkward," said Eames as they walked into the lift.

"It wasn't awkward until you just said it was awkward," replied Arthur as he pressed the button marked GF.

"It is just a little bit awkward," remarked Eames. "It's you and me on an actual date and we haven't killed each other yet."

"Don't push it," retorted Arthur.

They were soon sat down to a table of two outside on a balcony.

"My name is Jeremy and I will be your waiter for this evening. Would you like to order any drinks for starters, sir?" The waiter asked politely.

"Water would be fine," answered Arthur without taking his eyes off the menu.

"No no no no no," interrupted Eames, "we will have this red wine please, the whole bottle." Eames was pointing to the drinks menu for Jeremy to see.

"No problem," smiled Jeremy who was slightly amused, "The soup of the day is Lobster Bisque with a pastry top and the fresh fish for this evening is Salmon." He smiled and he left.

Eames crossed his legs and leaned forward on his elbows.

"What are you looking at?" asked Arthur.

"You."

"Okay..."

"I like your cufflinks, they match mine," explained Eames.

Arthur took a look at his and then at Eames'; they looked nothing alike.

"Um, how?"

"They're both made of gold and some other metal compounds."

Arthur did a mental face-palm and blankly stared at Eames, blinking profusely. "Really, Eames? Really?"

Eames just shrugged.

The lobster and crab starter soon came and it was made clear that shell foods should never be consumed when wearing custom made suits in Paris.

"Eames you're supposed to use the lobster cracker g-e-n-t-l-y! Not hammer the damn thing against the poor lobster!" Arthur exclaimed as lobster claws and tails and legs were now everywhere on the table.

Eames gave a childish grin before munching on the meat he managed to salvage, which was not a lot considering most of it was now on his shirt, and Arthur's too.

"I hate you," announced Arthur to Eames while they were eating their main course of salmon fillet with spinach and cream sauce and potatoes. Eames' dish was cooked until the fish was just done and it soaked up some of the creamy sauce. Arthur's looked succulent but was really as dry as sandpaper.

"Nah, you love me," chuckled Eames, "You want a bite?"

Eames held out a fork with some salmon and spinach on towards Arthur. Arthur grinned as he took a hold of Eames' hand with the fork before taking a bite. It was delicious and he was not afraid to let their touch linger for a little longer; it has been a while since Arthur felt so relaxed on a job.

Arthur stretched his leg out under the table as they were waiting on their dessert.

"Why is it taking so fucking long?" Eames heaved before leaning back on the chair, stretching his legs. "Move your legs Arthur."

"No."

"Fine."

Eames rubbed the side of his foot against Arthur's calf just as Jeremy the waiter came over with their soufflés.

"I apologize for the lateness of the soufflés, the chef got some orders mixed up. I hope you thoroughly enjoyed this meal."

Arthur could only nod and smile sweetly. He was turning slightly red from the little game of footsie under the table.

"Eames move your feet away from my thigh," hissed Arthur across the table.

"Why, love? Is something bothering you?" smirked Eames.

"If you don't move your feet now," whispered Arthur as he leaned in closer to Eames, "I'm not touching you tonight."

Eames stopped licking his spoon for any more traces of soufflé, looked up at Arthur and adjusted his legs.

"You are evil, you know that?" Eames asked, before asking for the bill.

"You love it," commented Arthur.

"Your place or mine?" asked Eames again as he signed the bill.

"We live in the same goddamn room Eames."

"Then let's go."


End file.
